


Big Bird

by mechanicMermaid



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Humanstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:56:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4091293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicMermaid/pseuds/mechanicMermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vriska works as a tattoo artist in St. Louis. She is painfully bored until a skinny, intoxicated girl shows up and then Vriska is significantly less bored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Bird

**Author's Note:**

> This was just something I whipped up from my brain space because my best friend loves Scourgecest and I was bored. I feel like there are a lot of problems with characterization and it's pissing me off but I guess practice makes perfect. Really it makes me wanna stab myself. Please enjoy and leave feedback.

St. Louis is not the most exciting town. In fact, you are willing to argue it is one of the most boring places you have ever had the displeasure of living in (it is the only place you have ever lived). Really, the suckiness of it is so second nature to you because you grew up here. It is so intensely lame that you often find yourself wondering how you turned out to be so awesome yourself, even after being raised in these conditions.  
  
Your name is Vriska, you are 24, and you still live with your parents. You spend your days hating your life and reaping minimum wage from your job as a tattoo artist. The tattoo parlor is not only your refuge, but it is also the only tattoo shop in the city and you are thankful for it - spending your time permanently stabbing ink into people really makes up for the general shitiness of where you live.  
  
Really the only complaint you have with the shop is that is closes at two in the morning on most nights. Who the fuck in St. Louis is going to meander into a shady-looking tattoo parlor at two in the morning?  
  
This is your current dilemma. It is 12:56 in the morning and you are exhausted, yet here you are, waiting in vain for some poor soul to walk into your work at one in the morning to get tattooed. You are sitting on the floor, idly flipping through the latest edition of some car magazine, when you hear the door open. But the door doesn’t just open, it _slams_ open and you can already tell whoever came in is drunk.  
  
Not even bothering to be ashamed of sitting on the floor and slacking off, you lazily stand up to see your victim. You almost immediately fall down in laughter at the sight that greets your eyes.  
  
A scrawny girl with a cane and fucking red sunglasses is stumbling towards you. Even better though, she has a vibrant red cloak on that seems to be in the form of a dragon. It’s tattered which means she must wear it a lot and holy shit is this girl nine or something?  
  
With an amused expression on your face, you watch as she struggles to walk the short distance from the entrance to the front counter where you wait for her. She is obviously trying very hard to look cool, catching herself as she trips over her own feet.  
  
She finally makes it over, only stopping when she runs into the counter with a great “oof”. She straightens herself up and you say, in the most disgustingly polite tone you can manage, “Hello miss, how may I help you?”  
  
She is tapping her cane repeatedly on the ground and seems really jittery in a way that suggests she would be like that even if she were sober.  
  
“Big Bird. On my ass.” Her voice is husky for a female and you really enjoy it until you register what she said.   
  
“You’re drunk,” you deadpan. She raises a thin eyebrow at you.  
  
“You’re a fuckin’ liar. I got cash and shit. Big Bird.” She is slurring her words and this whole shenanigan becomes significantly less amusing very quickly.  
  
“Look, I really don’t care if you have money. You’re hammered and I’m not tattooing Big Bird on your ass. If you really want it, come back tomorrow when you’re sober and not going to waste my time.”   
  
“For reeeeeal man? You’re a shitty desk person thing.”  
  
“Do I look like I’m joking, Dragon Girl?” You know it’s a lame insult but you were put on the spot really, and it’s not as if it’s a lie. You are desperately hoping she will leave and then everything becomes intensely awkward.  
  
“Shit, I wish I could answer that. Too bad I’m blind as a bat. Maybe ever blinder. Also that name suuuuucked. So do you.”  
  
You are really glad she’s blind because your mouth is hanging open as you look at her in awe. That would explain the cane you guess. And then she’s turning around to leave and you hate what comes out of your mouth next.  
  
“Stop, okay? Stay here for now.”  
  
She turns around to face you and she is angled a little too far to the right, facing a wall, with a confused expression on her face. You have to play off the urgency that was in your voice previously and you quickly respond, cool as a cucumber, “I mean - you’re blind and it’s late. Well, early I guess. Anyway just shut up and stay here. I close at two and I’ll drive you home. I guess.”  
  
A shit-eating grin makes its way onto her face and you instantly regret everything you just said. She is using her cane to guide herself back over to the counter and lean against it in what she probably thinks is a nonchalant, cool-guy way. She just looks uncomfortable.  
  
"Where do you want me, Bossy Pants?” she asks.  
  
You groan loudly as you walk around to the other side of the counter. She seems taken aback when you wrap a hand around one of her bony elbows, the one not holding the cane, and lead her back around. There’s a comfortable chair by the company computer that you plop her down in. Almost immediately, she starts swiveling around like a five-year-old.

  
“If you puke on this floor I will make you clean it up. I’m gonna make you some coffee.”  
  
She doesn’t respond, just continues grinning and spinning in the chair, and you roll your eyes at her. Even though she can’t see. Because she’s fucking blind. What did you do to deserve this?  
  
As you head to the employee lounge to make the coffee, you check the time - 1:10. Fifty more minutes Vriska, you can do this.  
  
There’s silence for a while, save for the sound of the old coffeemaker and the chair rolling on the ground. And then the girl speaks and, on second thought, her voice is really obnoxious and you want it to stop.  
  
“So hey, like, I don’t even know your name. Which I think is kinda shitty since you’re bein’ my knight in shining armor right now. I’m T’rezi. ”  
  
“Vriska,” you answer shortly. And then she begins _talking_ and she won’t. Stop.  
  
She starts telling you about the party she was just at (are there even parties in St. Louis?) and how she’s soooooo fucked up which is obvious and you debate just pouring the steaming cup of  coffee on her head.

  
Instead, you opt for handing it to her and sitting on the floor beside the chair. She plops down next to you, sloshing a little bit of coffee onto her dark jeans. She is still talking. You hate chatty drunks because nothing they say makes fucking sense. It is now 1:19 and you figure that you might kill yourself before 41 minutes are up.  
  
She continues to talk. And talk. And fucking talk. You give up trying to pay attention and settle on grunting every so often, adding in your own clever and snarky commentary here, insulting her there. She just laughs at all of the shitty names you call her like “Tequila Breathe” and “Nubby Nails” and “Dragon Bitch”. You know they’re terrible but it’s way past your bedtime and she’s annoying so it doesn’t really matter. You’d rather use your good material on people that can appreciate it  
  
Her speech  sort of clears up after about twenty minutes, but it doesn’t really matter because the coffee is getting to her and she’s wired. You can practically see the caffeine coursing through her veins. Her whole body is bouncing and somehow she gravitated toward you in the twenty minutes she spent speaking. You can feel the warmth of her body through the knee of your jeans where your legs are touching but you don’t bother moving away.  
  
And then, suddenly, she is very close, too close, and you almost fall back against the desk.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing Terezi?” you ask shrilly, trying to scoot back.  
  
She doesn’t answer, but instead presses her lips lightly against yours. It barely constitutes as a peck, but you still stop her as she tries leaning in again. It’s not that she’s unattractive (honestly, you’d been admiring her delicate frame and pale, delicious-looking skin for a hot minute now) but she was still sort of drunk and you still sort of had morals.  
  
She groans and mumbles that she’s sorry and you just pat her back. It is 1:43 and you are tired and frustrated.  
  
“I’m gonna start closing up,” you say abruptly, wanting to escape the stifling awkwardness. She shrugs at you as you stand. It takes you until 1:55 to close the register, clean up the tattoo room, and turn most of the lights off. When you get back to the spot behind the counter, Terezi is just laying on her back and tracing the veins on the outside of her hand. Well, trying to since she can’t really see them.  
  
You kick her halfheartedly and she sits up with a grunt, not noticing your outstretched hand. You would feel weird saying anything so you just grab her and yank her up. She comes up just to your chin and you think it’s really fucking adorable.   


“So, listen, I’d really like to hang out with you when you’re sober. Mostly because you’re lame and I’m not. So it’s not really that I want to hang out with you, you just need me to. But I think I’m gonna need some way to contact your weak ass so you should give that to me.”  
  
Terezi lets out a sort of huff-laugh that sounds wheezy and awkward but you like it all the same. As she tells you her username on Pesterchum, you muse on how much you enjoy her voice when it’s saying things in a normal, vaguely sober fashion.  
  
It is 2:00 in the morning and you try not to enjoy how Terezi links her arm with yours so that you can lead her to your car. Although you’ve noticed how well she functions despite being blind, you like touching her and you use her lack of sobriety as an excuse to help her into the seat and buckle her. Once again, you are morbidly thankful that she’s blind and can’t see the blush creeping up your neck (except it isn’t _really_ a blush because Vriska Serket is above blushing over strangers like a schoolgirl, thank you very much).  
  
After you enter her address into your GPS, you let the machine take up the task of guiding you to Terezi’s apartment complex. In the meantime, you actually engage her in conversation and discover that you both harbor a deep love of roleplaying and LARPing. You also both have an account on the same roleplaying website and agree to exchange usernames later.  
  
You find the ride to be too short and end up in a parking space facing her building all too soon. You both just sit there in silence before you ask if she needs help getting to her apartment.  
  
“No, but can I say that I want it?”  
  
Smiling to yourself, you rush to get out and assist her, despite knowing she would have been fine on her own. You enjoy that though because, even though she can’t see, she is still very independent and you deeply admire that.  
  
When you reach the front door you know that you’re going to have to leave - why would she want help into her apartment from a virtual stranger?  
  
As you go to say goodbye, Terezi moves her hand to your shoulder. She slowly traces her knobby fingers up your neck and lets them rest on your cheek. Finally, she stands on her tippy toes and presses a kiss to the flushed skin.  
  
Your last hour awake is infested with thoughts of skinny blind girls with dragon capes and red glasses.


End file.
